Darkness of Birth
by njchrispatrick
Summary: Howard Stark was remembered as a hero, but he was not a good man. Steve did not expect his friend's dark turn. He would never have believed it if it weren't for Tony's animosity, the certificate tucked into a forgotten drawer, and the photo of a baby with blonde hair and curious brown eyes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****Howard Stark was remembered as a hero, but he was not a good man. Steve did not expect his friend's dark turn. He would never have believed it if it weren't for Tony's animosity, the certificate tucked into a forgotten drawer, and the photo of a baby with blonde hair and curious brown eyes.**

**WARNING: Slash, Mpreg**

* * *

><p>Tony winced as another needle was removed from his arm, the tube full of blood, and he sent a fierce glare at the person holding it. Howard was not phased by it, ignoring his son's gaze as he placed the vial of blood onto the medical table, next to a matching one, taking care to keep it away from the bloody instruments that also were present. Then he offered Tony a small smile, ignoring the following growl from the Stark heir, as he pulled off his latex gloves.<p>

"There we go, Anthony," he spoke cheerfully, pushing the rolling table of instruments towards the door. "I'll just go run a few tests to make sure that the baby's fine and didn't inherit any of your defects." He glanced down at the vials again, one from Tony and the other from the newborn baby, before exiting the room.

Tony stared at the door for a long moment before turning his gaze to the infant bed a few feet away from his own one. He narrowed his eyes at the child within, the little boy's arms splayed out and his eyes closed. Tony felt a surge of anger and hatred rise up in him at the sight.

As a child he had always craved his father's love, for the man to see him as something other than an accessory or business investment. By the age of thirteen those delusions had passed and Tony had realized that Howard would never love him, evidenced by him shipping Tony off to boarding school and then college as soon as he could. Sometimes Tony wondered why Howard hadn't abandoned him or cut him off, though he never questioned it.

Now he wished that Howard had. What that bastard had done to Tony, experimenting on him, forcing him to become _pregnant_ with the baby of a long-dead friend of his father's… it was sickening and violating in the most extreme ways. All to create the little brat sleeping near Tony without a care in the world. Howard had named him Steven Stark, with Howard as his middle name, no doubt to prevent the kid from getting attached to Tony. Tony had no doubt that the kid would grow up getting everything that Tony had not; attention, benefits, and a twisted, obsessive form of love.

Tony didn't want to be a parent. After having a father like Howard he never had, originally for fear of turning out like Howard but now because Tony couldn't stand the thought. If, for some reason, he ever fathered a child, he would find a way to keep them out of his life.

It was that thought that spawned an idea in Tony's mind. He didn't want this kid, but at the same time he wouldn't kill an innocent. But Howard cared for the boy, and nothing would hurt him more than losing his prize. There might be a way for Tony to win after all…

He reached over to the side table, biting his lips at the pain caused by his stitches pulling. By the time Tony had grabbed his phone he thought they were going to burst, though luckily they held. Howard had left the phone, confident that Tony would not be able to do anything; nobody would believe him. However, Tony had no intention of calling for help.

He pressed zero and waited for a moment. "Hello operator?" he said, casting a quick glance at the door. "Can you tell me the names of the adoption agencies in the New York area?"

Fifteen minutes later Steven woke up and began crying loudly. Howard arrived faster than Tony thought possible and was quick to soothe the newborn with warm formula, picking the boy up and carrying him out to the hallway. He didn't look at Tony even once.

* * *

><p>Tony walked into the gleaming office building, his rain-soaked sneakers squeaking slightly on the marble with each step. He ignored the many looks of businessmen, all no doubt confused about the intent of a ratty teen in jeans and a T-Shirt. What attracted even more stares was the two-month-old baby that lay in a small car seat he was carrying with him. Tony strode to the elevator, happy to see that the first one to open was empty. He was tired of judging stares.<p>

He placed the carrier down as he pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and leaned against one of the mirrored walls. Tony tried to keep his eyes on the slowly rising numbers (too slowly-they needed better elevators), but his dark eyes were quickly directed at the infant. Steven wasn't Tony's son; if anything, he was Howard's. Sure Tony had contributed half the DNA and had been the one to get pregnant, but not by choice. Howard was the instigator. Howard was the parent. Tony was a forced surrogate. Steven was his blood, nothing else.

Steven's brown eyes, so like Tony's own, were wide, darting around as he tried to take in all the different colors and shapes that were distorted in the metal walls. Tony knew that the boy couldn't possibly comprehend anything around him but wondered if Steven would one day be as smart as his… as Tony. Tony rather hoped not, if only because genii had a worrisome habit of finding each other.

Then the elevator dinged, telling him that they had reached the fifteenth floor. He bent down to pick up the baby, ignoring the recognition dawning in Steven's eyes when the baby saw him, and walked out.

Tony only took a few steps before pausing and looking around with one eyebrow raised. This… was not what he expected from an adoption center. He wasn't sure why but he had expected more babies, like an orphanage or something. Instead it was mostly glass and steel with mirrors lining the walls. The mirrors irked him-he felt like they were trying to make him feel guilty or something.

Truthfully Tony didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel sad, either. He didn't want this baby and he was not obligated to raise him. This would be the best chance the kid would have, along with the benefit of pissing Howard off.

"Mr. Star?" spoke a female voice from the desk, getting his attention. He stepped up to the desk and nodded.

'Star' was the pseudonym he had registered under, for his own safety. The adoption lawyer he had spoken to knew who he was but was under a verbal contract to keep silent.

The black-haired woman looked him up and down and Tony could nearly feel her judging him. A teenager, probably not even an adult yet, irresponsible, and careless enough to father a child out of wedlock. It made Tony's blood boil that people would judge him even when they knew nothing about him.

"I'm here to see Mr. Burns," he said, his face showing none of the emotion he felt. The woman at least attempted to be professional and directed him to the correct hallway.

As it turned out the man he was looking for was as far from the desk as it was probably possible to be on this floor. Steven started to whimper, Tony assumed from tiredness, so the teenager dropped a blanket over the top of the carrier to keep out the light. If Steven started crying then Tony really had no clue what to do, but this was a building full of baby lovers so someone would probably know what to do.

He stopped outside a door, the one he was looking for if the nameplate was correct. "Well then," he muttered to himself, placing a hand on the doorknob. "Here goes everything."

Tony opened the door.

* * *

><p>It took two weeks.<p>

Two weeks of paper signing, personal and legal verification, and hiding his intentions from Howard before Tony was allowed to give up the kid. He could have done it sooner but then the kid would have ended up with a foster family, and Howard might have been able to track Steven down. This way Steven would not only be out of his reach, but even out of the country, all because Tony had taken the time to grease the way.

Tony watched as the little blonde boy sat in the arms of the woman coming to take him away, his little fist halfway into his mouth as he patted the woman's face with his other hand. She was smiling as she gently pushed his hand down and made it wave to Tony. Steven followed the direction of his arm, dark eyes locking on Tony. Tony could see the kid's eyebrows scrunch together as he recognized Tony. The genius took that as his cue to leave.

He dropped into the driver's seat of his car, turning it on and listening to the soft purring of the engine for a moment before looking out the window. The woman was still standing right outside the glass doors, Steven in her arms. But right now the baby was bawling his eyes out, reaching out towards Tony's car. The poor woman was doing her best to hold the boy steady.

For just a second Tony wondered if he was doing the right thing, leaving the kid to the chaos of the adoption system. However, that thought was ruthlessly crushed as he remembered the circumstances leading to the creation of Steven. He was not Tony's problem.

So, with that, Tony pressed the gas and drove away.

* * *

><p>Tony felt Obi's hand on his shoulder as the older man came up behind him, his shoes squelching slightly on the damp grass. They were the only two left at the cemetery, everyone else having gone home after paying their respects. Tony had stayed for a while longer. He was sure that everyone else thought it was from sadness, but it was the exact opposite.<p>

He was happy. No, strike that, happiness did not accurately describe the extent of his joy. Tony was _ecstatic_, and in fact was barely able to keep a straight face when his father's coffin was lowered into the ground. It was a good thing that Howard's body was too grotesquely mangled to be displayed to the public, because Tony would have burst out laughing had he seen it.

Tony had _won_. After all his grandstanding, money making, speeches, and domineering, Howard had been killed in a _car crash_ of all things. It was perfection. The man who believed himself a god died like a pathetic mortal-full of rage and alcohol, on his way to murder Tony. The fact that Maria had died as well barely made a blip on Tony's emotional radar; she was a weak, greedy woman, who married Howard only to get money and make a name for herself.

Tony had called Howard an hour after dropping the kid off, which was all the time needed to get the kid on a plane to Europe. Howard had been in a business dinner but was more than happy to answer the phone when Tony called about "baby business". To say that the millionaire was angry was an understatement. Howard had been absolutely livid, storming out of the meeting with Maria in tow and rushing to his car. He hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings as he sped towards the house.

That was his downfall. Speeding through an intersection, Howard didn't notice an oncoming truck until it was nearly too late. He had swerved to avoid it and his tire hit the corner curb, sending them rolling. Both he and Maria were crushed, the open-topped sports car not offering any protection.

And Tony had been _free_. When he got the call he'd been cooped up in his house with Howard's gun, expecting his father to walk in and planning to blow the man's head off when he did, damn the consequences. But instead Howard had been killed by his own stupidity, not only freeing Tony from the tyrant but also from legal punishment.

It was for this reason that Tony had such a hard time at the funeral. For all his threats and grandstanding Howard had lost to his own son. Even better, by right of birth and thanks to Obadiah Tony had inherited all of his father's possessions, including shares to the company! The only downside to the entire event was that Howard would be remembered as a hero, not the scum he was.

"Ready to go, kid?" Obadiah asked softly, squeezing Tony's shoulder. "It's getting late."

Tony took a deep breath as he watched the rain seep into the freshly laid dirt on Howard and Maria's graves. They were his parents, but they were his past, and he could leave them behind now. Now, well, it was time for the world to prepare itself for a new dawn. The dawn of Tony Stark.

* * *

><p>Diana Warbeck made another slash on her list as she walked through the Children's Wing of the hospital, her wand subtly tucked into her pocket. Yet another orphaned child was non-magical, like she expected.<p>

Diana's unofficial job, one she had invented for herself, was as a magical Adoption Agent. It was something she had wanted to be ever since she was a little girl and she learned that she and her fraternal twin sister, singing sensation Celestina, were adopted, and lucky enough to be magical just like their adoptive parents. Diana wanted to give other children the same chance that she had gotten.

As she stepped into another room where an orphan was being checked over, her wand began to buzz in her pocket. Diana quickly reached into her pocket to cease the buzzing, though she remained focused on the little boy being checked over by a doctor. He was really quite adorable; big brown eyes, a surprisingly thick head of ash-blonde hair, and features that would clearly make him a heartbreaker when he got older.

The nurse looked over to her, smiling in recognition. "Diana, hi!" he greeted with a grin, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Making your rounds as usual?" It was well-known that Diana's job was to take patient inventory every day.

She smiled in return as she took a few steps closer. "Yep, same as always." The little boy heard her and looked up, dark eyes intelligent and curious. "And who's this little angel?"

The nurse, Graham, glanced over at his sheet. "Uh… Steven. Steven Stark." He laughed when Steven fussed at the cold stethoscope being placed against his stomach. "He's a feisty one. Funny, he has the same last name as that famous guy from America. What was his name again?"

Diana shrugged, only half-listening, as she made a check by Steven's name. "I can't remember, Edward I think it was?" She tucked the clipboard under her arm again. "Now if you'll excuse me Graham, I've got to go now. Lots to do!"

She barely waited for his farewell before hurrying out of there, committing the boy's name to memory. Then she pulled out her phone and dialed the number that had called her every day for the past month. It was picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" came the breathless woman's voice.

Diana smiled triumphantly. "Lily Potter? I've found one."

She could hear the shocked intake of breath and the shout of 'James!' on the other end of the phone. Within seconds another voice spoke. "You found one? You're sure?" exclaimed James Potter in excitement.

Even if no one could see her, Diana nodded. "A boy, he's almost three months old."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Lily spoke again. "And you're sure he's magical?"

Diana snorted. "I've done this lots of times, more than you'd think. I know what I'm doing. But yes. His name is Steven, he has blonde hair and brown eyes, and he needs a brand new mummy and daddy." She smirked to herself. "You up for the task?"

* * *

><p>James and Lily sat in the waiting room of the small office, their hands clasped together. Their quiet murmuring ceased when the very woman they'd been waiting for, Diana Warbeck, walked in. She was carrying a muggle car seat, which immediately drew the attention of the couple.<p>

"Thanks for waiting," Diana greeted with a soft smile. "He was asleep and fussed a little at being moved. But here he is!" She took a few steps closer and placed the carrier on one of the chairs in front of them. "This is Steven."

Bright green and hazel eyes fixed on the small child within. Steven was tiny, smaller than they had pictured, his little arms flailing around as he stared back at them. His eyes were a rich brown, wide and curious, and he had a tuft of dusty blonde hair that poofed up. He squealed a bit and kicked the fuzzie blue blanket, as if excited by something.

Diana grinned, even if her clients couldn't see, as they were too focused on the boy. "I think he likes you. That'd be good because he hasn't done much but cry and whimper since the agency got him." A touch of sadness colored her tone. "I think he is missing his daddy."

That got their attention, James and Lily both looking up at her. Steven made cooing sounds but they (reluctantly) ignored him. "His daddy?" James asked with a frown. "What do you mean? Did something happen to him?"

The adoption agent sighed and ran a finger through her short brown hair. "It's… not really my place to say," she admitted. "But Steven here wasn't exactly an… accident baby, like most that we see."

The Potters exchanged glances. "Then why was he given up?" asked Lily indignantly. "Did his parents decide that they just didn't want a kid?"

"Not exactly. To be honest, Steven was intended, but not wanted." She sighed again at their frowns. "Rape, Mrs. Potter. Rape with the intention of a child."

Lily sucked in a breath, horror evident in her expression. "His father-"

"Not him," Diana interrupted. "The mother, from what the agency was told. Apparently his father was forced to consummate with her by his own father, something to do with an important family connection. Not too unlike the pureblood mentality. She died in childbirth but Steven's grandfather took over care, forcing his son to participate. The father contacted us as a way to pass of the child as well as keeping him out of the grandfather's hands. Even luckier that the boy turned out to be a muggleborn, which makes him very well-hidden."

The Potters' gazed slowly returned to the little boy, who had developed a fascination with his feet and was attempting to eat his toes. He paused as he sucked on one, looking up at them with an expression that screamed "What?".

"The circumstances of his birth don't matter," James spoke firmly. "He's not at fault here. And while I can't say that I agree with what his father did, I can understand why he did it." The dark-haired man reached over to pull the fuzzy blanket back over Steven. "But now he's our son, and we won't let anything happen to him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As with all my stories at the moment, this one may take some time to be updated. I have had an enormous influx of story ideas recently. I only published this one because a friend advised me to.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and if so please leave a review. They help motivate me to write. And if you have any ideas, comments, or questions, feel free to leave those as well. (Especially opinions about Harry's name; if it should stay Harry, or if it should turn back to his birthname, and how.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay all, this chapter was EVIL. Far too hard to write for some bizarre reason, as my friend _SoundedSummer_ can attest to. HUGE thanks to her for helping me get past the part I was stuck on. This isn't as long as I planned but it ended best here.**

**Warnings: Slash, Mpreg, evil!Howard, possible bad!WizardingWorld**

* * *

><p>Petunia Dursley sat at her kitchen table sipping her tea, staring out the window and watching a little robin hop around in the grass. It was small, probably barely old enough to fly, and all alone. No doubt it had been left behind when all the other birds flew south for the winter.<p>

Petunia pursed her lips and turned away, glancing at the clock on the wall. There was still a half-hour until Vernon and Dudley were supposed to get back from the zoo and it was the first time she had been completely free since Dudley's birth. It was just her, all by herself…

The sound of voices had her turning towards the living room, and her eyes narrowed as she remembered. Almost alone. Just her and her nephew. She stood from the table, leaving her cup, and walked to the doorway to see what the boy was doing to entertain himself.

It was… interesting, to say the least. The TV was on and Harry was now plopped in front of it, Dudley's hand-me-down toys forgotten. It appeared that the boy had figured out how to switch it on, though it might have just been Vernon forgetting to turn it off. Either way, the 16-month-old had his head tilted back as he watched the news about some american celebrity.

After a few moments Petunia turned away, planning on returning to her brooding and tea, when a small sniffle made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened.

Little Harry had pushed himself to his feet, using the toy bin as a hand-hold. She could see a distraught expression on his little face as he looked at the TV, one chubby hand reaching up to touch the screen, where the celebrity was displayed. As the woman watched, he began to cry. Softly at first but then louder, heart-wrenching sobs as he smacked the TV as if trying to be heard through the glass. It was painful to watch.

Later she would not be able to describe what made her do it. Perhaps motherly instinct, or how unbearable it was to see a child cry like that, or maybe even remembering how she once comforted her little sister. Petunia came behind the boy, knelt down, and hugged him. It seemed to trigger something because he gripped her sweater tightly as he cried, still staring at the TV with a heartbroken expression, brown eyes wet.

Contrary to the beliefs of her friends, Petunia did not hate Lily. How could she? Lily was her little sister, her best friend. Sure Lily had magic, and Petunia desperately craved it. But her sister, the little green-eyed toddler Petunia had taught how to walk, Petunia could never hate her. In fact Petunia's greatest regret was blaming her sister for the deaths of their parents. Lily's broken expression, the way she seemed to fold in on herself… Petunia had never felt worse. However, it was too late to take those words back.

And little Harry… try as she might, Petunia couldn't hate him. His magic, sure, but not him. She had been furious at the audacity of the old headmaster to dump the boy on her doorstep, but she wouldn't blame the boy for that. He was Lily's son, magic or not. Lily would have taken Dudley in, magic or no magic, without question, and wouldn't treat him any differently from her own son.

So Petunia closed her eyes and hugged her nephew close, letting him cry himself to sleep in her arms. Then, a half-hour later, she put him to sleep in Dudley's travel crib. After which she straightened, squared her shoulders, and walked downstairs.

She and Vernon needed to have a talk.

* * *

><p>Tony drained yet another glass of champagne, feeling that tell tale woozy feeling that came from drinking too much too fast on an empty stomach. He was already waving for another glass, ignoring the glares from Pepper and Obadiah that he could feel stabbing into the back of his head.<p>

They put him here, they made him deal with these people, and he was going to make it through the only way he knew how.

"Tony!" Tiberius Stone came up behind him, and Tony forced himself to smile as the larger man clapped a hand on the billionaire's shoulder and he almost buckled. Schoolmates at MIT, Tony had never liked the other man, but he did have his uses. "Tell me Tony, everyone is here celebrating your father's genius, are you ever going to pass on those famous Stark genes?"

No. Not just no, but hell no.

But he couldn't say that, not without it ending up on the cover of every tabloid, paper, and website from here to China. So he just smiled, played it off, and reached for another glass.

Later, he wouldn't remember exactly what it was that set him off. It could have been the blond standing in the corner, Marine corps uniform polished and gleaming as he watched over the crowd. It could have been the redhead that draped herself over him, babbling in his ear about how she would give him such beautiful babies.

Or it could have been the baby.

Yeah it was probably the baby.

Either way, Tony felt like his guts were trying to come out of his nose as he heaved, Pepper standing behind him like a vengeful goddess.

"I can't believe you Tony. You threw up over the senator, and smashed every picture frame out there! The Press are going to eat this up!" He could hear her shoe tapping against the tile and it made his head ache more than it already was. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Tony didn't answer, just leaned his head against the wall behind him and tried to breathe.

That damn baby. Why the hell would someone bring an infant to an event like this? Tony could still remember having to smile and coo over it like it was something special, grey eyes replaced in his mind with familiar brown.

It was too much. He wanted to forget, he didn't want to be at a memorial for Howard Stark, a year after he died, and confronted with a reminder like that.

So he drank. He drank a lot. And the pictures were going to be mortifying.

But maybe he could forget.

"Tony?" Pepper was behind him, her hand warm on the back of his neck and he leaned into it. "Tony, talk to me. I can't help you make this go away if you won't tell me anything!"

Tony shook his head. He didn't know how. He didn't want anyone to know, he never wanted anyone to know. Especially not Pepper. "'m fine," he muttered, using the collar of his shirt to clean off his mouth.

"You are _not_ fine, Tony." He could hear the scowl in her voice. "Please tell me what it is! I can't help until I know!"

"No one can help Pepper," he grunted, running a hand through sweat-dampened hair. "It's not important."

"Not important!" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "Tony, you nearly had a meltdown! Why?"

He grimaced, knowing that the redheaded woman would not give up until he gave in. "Why do you care so much?" he asked finally in a soft voice, closing his eyes.

There was a long pause and he thought that Pepper wasn't going to respond, but then she spoke. "Because someone has to, Tony."

Tony opened his eyes and looked up at her. She was watching him with an expectant expression, waiting for him to make a move. So he sighed and took a deep breath. "I was nineteen," he began, propping his head up against his knee with one arm. "I was visiting Da-... Howard. He wanted to tell me about something." Tony screwed up his face in disgust. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted him…"

* * *

><p>Petunia's brow creased as she shuffled through the letters in her hand, dividing them up into separate stacks on the counter based off what they were about. Bills, personal letters, or professional. Since it was nearing Mother's Day she had two letters addressed to her from friends, but they were general letters that were more for show than personal attachment. She tossed them after a quick scan.<p>

The bills were left on the table for Vernon to look over when he got back from work. Since it was Friday he would be getting off a bit earlier than usual, something that had made both her and him very happy. She hoped that he remembered to go to the gym as well.

For professional letters there were only two. One was for Vernon, hopefully that promotion he had been angling for. It went onto the table next to the bills. However, the second one gave her pause. It was light grey, the edges embossed in silvery lines, with a crest on it that made her breath catch in her throat. She hurriedly tore it open, dropping the envelope onto the floor in her haste to read the letter inside. She skimmed past the opening and introductions, knowing what it would say.

_Dear Mr. or Mrs. Dursley,_

_This letter is to inform you of the exemplary academic progress of your nephew, Harry James Potter._

_In the nationwide administered Standardized Tests, Mr. Potter has shown admirable results that set him apart from 99.9% of students. He has scored perfectly on Mathematics and Literature sections, and nearly perfectly on the Science, having only one incorrect answer._

_Because this would be the second time Mr. Potter has been recommended to be moved up in the course of three years, this time his scores proving that he should be more than one year ahead, I have contacted the school board to have Mr. Potter tested on his scholastic ability. We will use those to choose an appropriate placement for him._

_If Mr. Potter continues to prove himself as such, he could very well be eligible for a scholarship to some of the most elite private schools in the country._

_I will contact you when further details are decided._

_Sincerely,_

_Nicholas J. McWilliams, Ph.D_

_Woodford Primary_

Petunia stared at the letter in shock, her pale blue eyes widening as she realized what this meant. For her, for her family, and, most importantly, for her nephew. It slid out of her frozen grip and onto the table as her mind raced.

The shutting of the front door snapped her out of her grip and she heard the tell-tale sound of squeaky shoes on the hardwood. "Aunt Tunia?" called a voice. She heard the thump of him dropping his bookbag in the hall as he called out again.

"In-" she cleared her throat when her voice cracked. "In here, Harry!"

The feet could be heard getting closer before her nephew appeared in the doorway. The seven-year-old's blonde hair was crazy from the wind outside, the rain not even making a dent in the the thick wave. When he saw her his face split in a grin, displaying the gaps in his teeth. "Hi Aunt Tunia," he greeted, the gap in his teeth whistling as he said the cut version of her name. He hurried over her and gave her a tight hug, which she returned.

"Hello, how was school today?" She returned his smile and her own got wider as his chocolate-colored eyes seemed to light up.

"It was great! We had a test today in Maths, and I know I did well! Dudley told me that his went good too-"

"_Well_ Harry, not good," the woman interrupted, correcting his grammar.

Harry just ploughed on. "-and he told me that his teacher graded his before class ended and told him he got an A!"

Petunia laughed at her nephew's enthusiasm and used one hand to try to pat down his crazy hair. No such luck, as she had expected. "That's great, it looks like your help for him paid off."

Harry nodded so fast she worried for his neck's integrity. "Uh huh, and he had almost all of his homework right last night!" He paused and his expression morphed into hesitant curiosity. "Does that mean we can get ice cream?"

Petunia tapped her chin as she pretended to think, Harry looking up at her as he shuffled his feet. "Well since you are so sure," she said finally, nodding, "I think so!"

Harry cheered as he bounced around the kitchen, ever a ball of energy. She snorted as the seven-year-old tripped over the rug and stumbled, catching himself with an "I'm okay!" yelled out.

She bent down to pick up the forgotten envelope, refolding the letter and tucking it inside. She laid it on the counter near the fruit bowl, somewhere neither of her boys were going to notice it, seeing as how they hated the fruit bowl. She could talk to Vernon about it when he returned from work.

As it was Petunia simply listened for the sound of the telly being turned on before pulling cooking utensils out of the cabinets and filing a measuring cup to start cooking dinner.

A part of her wondered what the wizards would say to Harry going to a prestigious normal school instead of one of their… establishments, but she pushed the thought aside.

This would be Harry's best chance. When the time came it was up to him to decide, but for now, she would make sure he did not regret not trying something.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hopefully not too disappointing.**

**I am not 100% sure where I want to go with this, but I do know a few things. 1) Highly doubtful pairing, if so it will be Harry/Luna. Not up for debate since I have no love for any other HP female that works with his age, Hermione especially-sorry for those who love her. 2) Harry will most likely not be into Hogwarts when he meets his parents. I really enjoy making a corrupt WW, not people in it especially. 3) There will not be Lordships, or him being super overpowered magically, or properties or something. Those are way overdone.**

**So...yea. If this doesn't look like your sort of story, turn back now.**

**Opinions welcome in the reviews. Flames are only good for me and my friends to laugh at. Toodles!**

**P.S.: I hope to update Happy Accident soon, it's just that the next scene is REALLY big and I need to get it right.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Got this chapter out relatively easy, big thanks to my beta-buddy SoundedSummer and of course my Writing Goddess AnarchicMuse. Seriously, her writing is perfection. I would _pay_ to write like she does. You like mine? I BOW to her.**

**Sorry, had to do that. Much love my Goddess!**

* * *

><p>Harry watched as his feet swung inwards and outwards, back and forth, the wind rustling his pants and sending the winter chill up his legs. The swings creaked with every motion and the he was freezing cold, but he ignored both as he lost himself in the soothing back and forth motion.<p>

Aunt Petunia was no doubt looking for him. It was nearly sundown and he hadn't even brought a coat. He could picture her, and Dudley too, driving through the streets keeping their eyes out for him.

Harry didn't care. The bitter chill was as unimportant to him as the icy tears on his cheeks and eyes red from crying. The arm of his shirt was used to clean his runny nose and he sniffled, his breath quavering.

"Some birthday this was," he muttered softly.

His birthday had been just great, until his aunt had sat him down and proceeded to tear his world apart. Her sister Lily, Harry's mother who he knew almost nothing about, wasn't his biological mother. She and her husband James had adopted him.

Why had he been given up? Was his dad a deadbeat? Was his mother poor? Why had she given him up instead of keeping him? His aunt had said that James and Lily loved him more than life itself. He loved them too for being his parents, but couldn't help but wonder.

Did he have others out there too?

He kicked the mulch on the ground as he swung over it. There was no response from the wind and he leaned against the chain as the swing began to slow.

When it stopped he slid off it and grimaced at the cold soggy mulch on his bare feet. He wrapped his arms around himself as insulation, wishing he had brought something more than pajamas when he ran out of the house. Harry looked up at the setting sun, just barely peeking over the horizon, and he realized that in a few minutes he would be in the dark. So, sighing softly, he began trekking towards the edge of the park.

The lampost above the sidewalk at the edge of the park flickered as he got closer to it. The sun was nearly gone and the sky was even darker due to the heavy stormclouds covering it. Thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance and the wind seemed to strengthen.

Harry winced when he stepped in a puddle and the freezing water soaked his foot and the hem of his pajama pants. A chill ran up his spine and he sneezed so hard that he nearly fell over. The cement was a welcome change and he stamped his feet lightly to ward off the cold before making his way down the street.

Streetlights flicked on as he walked, the moon rising high and full as the sun set. Lights in nearby houses flicked on and a few people who were outside gave him worried stares, though they didn't say anything.

It took him almost half an hour to reach Privet Drive and by then it was dark, windy, and bitterly cold. Number Four had never seemed so far away, his feet like blocks of ice when he finally reached the door.

Harry had barely opened it before his aunt had swept him into a hug, herself crying and blubbering about how worried she had been. It all blurred together for Harry; her ushering him to the table, pushing a hot chocolate in front of him, and wrapping in a blanket. Dudley proclaimed his happiness for Harry being alright and even Vernon looked relieved. When hot chocolate was gone Petunia hustled him upstairs and into bed, throwing an extra blanket layer on top of him.

When she was gone Harry slid from his bed, glad of the fuzzy socks covering his feet. He pushed aside the blankets and crossed to the window, crossing his arms on the sill and looking up at the brilliantly shining moon.

He wondered if his parents were looking at it too. Maybe somewhere, far far away, he had a mum and dad who were looking up at the moon too.

* * *

><p>Pepper watched as her employer, the ever-immature Tony Stark, brushed off yet another reporter and their probing microphone. This time it was far ruder than the last dozen or so, though to be fair they were all being nosy.<p>

This day of the year was the one that Tony despised the absolute most. April 15th, the day that Howard Stark was born and the day that a memorial service was held for him every year. Tony, of course, was nearly obligated to come. He always did but that didn't mean he would come quiet, or sober, or without a bunch of scandalous comments for the media. Luckily people attributed it to grief over his father, but every year people wondered more and more why he would be such a… well, such a dick.

Back when he'd first hired her, a few years after Howard Stark's death and Tony cutting funds to the Captain America search-and-rescue missions, Pepper had wondered why he had done it. Now she understood.

Tony's hatred of Howard was a festering wound. Every year it would get a little bit worse, every year that Tony ignored it. So he just ignored it and took to other pursuits. The drinking. The women. The endless inventing and sleepless nights; he was killing himself from the inside-out, and he didn't even care. It had developed into a competition between Tony and his dead father, about something beyond her understanding.

And Pepper had no idea how to stop it. Worse, she did not know if Tony even wanted it to stop. All she could do was pray for a miracle.

* * *

><p>Tony wiped his greasy arm over his forehead, breathing heavily in the stifled air of the cave. The dirty towel he was using to clean his hands had essentially no effect, it being as dirty or dirties than he was, but he did not notice or care.<p>

He glanced over at his partner, Yinsen, who was leaning against a wall and breathing heavily. Both of the men were exhausted from the constant labor and Yinsen was older and less fit than Tony was. "Don't be shy," Tony quipped with a weak grin, "feel free to share the bed with me. There's room for two." He would have waggled his eyebrows mock-suggestively but he was honestly too tired to.

Yinsen just smiled and shook his head in amusement, but did move to take a seat next to Tony on the bed. The two men sat in companionable silence before Tony spoke again, not used to the silence. Even when he was working he typically had loud rock music going and JARVIS's readings filling the air. "So your life before this," began the genius, "what was it like?"

The doctor paused, turning to look at Tony curiously. There was also a guarded look in his eye. "Why do you ask, Mr. Stark?"

Tony shrugged, running a hand through his overgrown hair. "No reason, just trying to pass the time."

Silence lasted for a moment before Yinsen sighed. "I worked for a research company that operated throughout several Middle-Eastern companies. Not an extremely luxurious position, I had to travel for nearly an hour every day from my village. But it paid very well, and I could indulge my love of science. Several of my discoveries earned me trips to impressive conventions, like the one I met you at." The man sighed once more, leaning his head back against the cool stone walls. "My wife was a midwife. She always did love children." There was a pause and a small chuckle in obvious remembrance.

"My son, he was so much like her. He read constantly. He loved books more than anything. I would try to bring him a new one as often as I could. He had quite the collection. He dreamed of adventure, wanted to travel the world." Yinsen cut off and put a hand to his heart. "We had been saving money to send him to college in America when he was older."

Tony let the man having a moment of silence before putting a hand on Yinsen's shoulder and offering him a small grin. "Well, I'll tell you what. When we get out of here I'll pay his way through whatever college he can dream of. I'm sure a recommendation letter from me would do well."

The scientist smiled weakly at him, patting Tony's hand on his shoulder. "You are very kind, Stark," he murmured, folding his hands in his lap. "I wish that I could take you up on your offer."

Tony didn't hear the end of the whispered sentence, still smiling encouragingly at his partner in captivity. "Don't worry, we'll make it through this."

Yinsen just smiled softly and nodded. "You do seem like the type to pull through. What about you, do you have a loved one waiting for you?"

That gave the billionaire pause as he thought back to the last year of his life. Obadiah would miss him, but he was more like the distant godfather and business advisor that he was than real family. JARVIS didn't have the emotional capacity for it, something Tony had been working on. Pepper… well, Pepper was an intelligent, capable, powerful woman. Not having to take care of Tony would probably be a relief to her especially since in his Will she had been left most of his company shares.

The older man watched the myriad of emotions cross Tony's face and his gaze turned curious. "Have you ever been in love, Stark?"

Tony blinked, surprised at the question, and frowned in confusion. "Why would you say that?"

Yinsen shrugged. "You seem to be having trouble narrowing down who would miss you the most. Have you ever fallen in love with someone? That wonderful, terrible, completely indescribable feeling?"

Had he? Tony'd been many things, from furious beyond belief to so happy he was delirious, but love… he did not know. Sure he'd banged a fair few people in his day, but that had nearly always been mutual attraction and lust, nothing more. He certainly hadn't loved his parents, and Obi was too distant and businesslike.

Unbeknownst to him, Yinsen's expression morphed into one of pity. "So the man who has everything has never experienced the greatest treasure," he murmured.

Tony didn't know what to say. Aside from small dalliances, and a certain long-term adolescent infatuation he tried to forget, he'd… never fallen in love. "I… no," he finally answered in bewilderment, turning to look at Yinsen.

"Stark, should you escape from here, promise me one thing."

"What?"

Yinsen smiled. "Promise me that you will find someone who you can give your love to, and whose love you can accept."

Tony had no clue what to say to that in response, and he stayed silent until Yinsen moved to his bed and quickly fell asleep. It was only then that Tony whispered his answer.

"...Yes."

* * *

><p>14 Years Before<p>

_Tony flipped through the magazine in his hand, gaze flicking boredly over the spandex-dressed women in revealing poses, spreading their legs widely. He rolled his eyes at one picture of two women dressed as a lion tamer and a lion, both with breasts nearly naked for the picture._

_With a final sigh he flipped it shut, grabbing it by the corner and flinging it to the floor where it slid under the dresser. The teen genius watched it vanish from sight with bored brown eyes. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the eggshell-colored ceiling and trying to count the dozens of tiny holes that had been made in it by him as a child, hanging various contraptions from it._

_Again Tony rolled over, taking a hold of his blanket as he rolled to cocoon himself like he had when he was a kid and wanted to be a caterpillar. Unfortunately now all it got was him rolling off the bed and landing in a lump on the floor._

_He was so __**incredibly **__bored. Both his parents were in an inventor's convention for his father in Zurich, Switzerland, and Tony hadn't been invited after how he'd upstaged his father at the last one with his invention._

_Jealous asshole couldn't bear to be second best to his son at anything. Tony couldn't wait until he could go to college and never have to see his father again. Howard Stark was so arrogant that he wanted the company to stay in his blood, so he'd never disown Tony no matter how much he hated him. Besides, the old fart was too old to have kids so couldn't spawn a 'better' heir that way._

_Tony inched his way to his bedside table, reaching up and feeling around on top of it. After knocking over his lamp and alarm clock he finally found what he was looking for. With a click of a button on his specially designed remote his door locked itself shut. The genius grinned smugly to himself._

_When his father was gone Obi was nearly always over at his house. Obi was nice but seemed to constantly want to talk business with Tony, and Tony hated business. He liked inventing things but all the rest of it was boring. Hopefully Obadiah was asleep or out on the town._

_Once he was sure of his room's security Tony slid his hand under the mattress, digging around for his personal stash. When he found it he smirked to himself, pulling it out and staying on the other side of his mattress from the door. He flipped it open, running a tongue over his teeth._

_Howard had never approved of Tony's "alternative tastes". He had ignored Tony's first tests into those waters, but when his son made no moves towards the 'proper' gender Howard had stepped in. According to him, it would be horrible press to have Tony broadcasted lip-locked with another private school boy. So Tony had stopped being so forward, pretending to be done with all that._

_Not that he was, of course. Now he was simply more… clandestine. Shady magazines tucked under his bed, maids paid off to avoid them, it was easy enough to keep his father from noticing._

_Oh sure, Tony liked girls well enough. He could appreciate the female form, gorgeous girls immediately jumped out on his radar, but they weren't really his default. Solid muscles, broad shoulders, and solid jawlines drew his attention much more easily._

_Tony paused on one page, fingering one separate photo tucked between the pages. It had been swiped from his father's personal collection. Captain America, Steve Rogers, freshly juiced up with the Serum Howard so often bragged about. The man was an epitome of masculinity. Tall, broad, strong as an ox, and super sexy._

_He flushed as he tucked the picture back in, quickly flipping the page. He knew that it was a bit weird to be crushing on his father's dead best friend, but he couldn't help it. Steve Rogers was just so… perfect._

_Tony wanted to meet him more than anything._

* * *

><p>Obadiah gave another sigh as he removed his earplugs, glancing at them for a moment. He turned to look at Tony, seeming to weigh them in his hand. "Tony, Tony, Tony," he murmured, slipping the earplug into his pocket. "I had such high hopes for you, you know. Howard wasn't very impressed aside from being happy that you were a boy. But I," the man paused, watching the billionaire, "I knew that you could be far greater than he ever was. If pushed the right way."<p>

Ignoring the scornful eyes of Tony Obi lifted a cigar from his breast pocket and lit it, sucking on it before releasing a cloud of the thick smoke he knew Tony hated in his house. He continued. "It's why I made sure to have a presence in your life. If you trusted me then I could mold you into the sort of man who should be running this company." Then he sighed once more, shaking his head. "But you turned out worse than Howard. An arrogant little brat who thought of nothing but his precious little trinkets. Having trysts with all manner of people, not giving a thought to your legacy."

Tony fought to move his powerless body, hateful dark eyes fixed on Obi. He'd always thought that the man had his back, would always be there for him. Instead this man was the one betraying him and who clearly intended to kill him.

Obadiah grinned at him as if this was just a friendly conversation between the two of them. "No matter how hard I pushed, you seemed intent on tossing away your kingdom. Of course I couldn't allow that, which is why I went to Howard."

Tony froze, his blood turning cold in his veins as he processed what his childhood mentor was saying. The man's grin widened as he knelt on the couch next to Tony.

"When Howard mentioned the idea, I realized that it would fit perfectly. You were proving to be a colossal disappointment, and there needed to be a better solution." He patted Tony's abdomen, the exact spot where a scar ran the width of his torso. "As a matter of fact Howard wanted to use himself as the carrier. None of the surrogate tests had taken, and he was intent on only family being connected to the baby." Obi rolled his eyes, obviously thinking less of Howard's opinion. "I was the one who proposed using you. Not a great loss if you died."

Horrified, Tony fought the paralysis with all his strength, but he could barely manage to twitch his finger. So he settled for clenching his teeth as much as he could and imagining defiling Obadiah's corpse.

The older man just smiled as if nothing was wrong, turning to sit next to Tony as he pulled some strange metallic device from his pocket. "It's a pity you tossed away such a valuable asset, Tony," he added as the device magnetized to the arc. "The Stark legacy could have gone on." A pop emanated as the Arc Reactor began to rise from Tony's chest, the billionaire's breath choking off at the sharp pain accompanying it.

"But it looks like the golden goose didn't need a successor," the older man murmured as he stared at the pulsing blue light. "Because its last egg to give was diamond."

* * *

><p>Harry swung his legs back and forth beneath his chair mindlessly as he doodled a rough sketch of his an engine, his math homework completed and off to the side. He frowned as he erased one pipe, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He bit the end of his pencil in deliberation.<p>

He didn't notice the footsteps until he heard someone clear their throat. The ten-year-old looked up, brown eyes wide, and he gave a sheepish grin to his teacher's unamused look. "Uh… hi?"

Ms. Swanson had her arms crossed and one dark eyebrow raised as she eyed his doodle pad. Above the engine were a few others, of leaves and a cat and one of his cousin. "Mr. Potter, what exactly are you doing?" she asked in a stern tone. "You know very well that this time is for homework."

Harry shrugged and poked his math sheet with the end of his eraser. "I already finished it."

She frowned as she picked it up, scanning it with her eyes. "You finished this in fifteen minutes?" She sounded highly dubious.

The boy shrugged as he attempted to twirl his pencil in his fingers but dropped it to the floor. "It wasn't too hard," Harry admitted with a shrug. "I have a trick." He pulled out his graph paper and handed it to her. "Here's my work."

Ms. Swanson's eyebrows crept higher and higher as she skimmed it. "This is incredible!" she murmured, turning it over to look at the back. "And _you_ thought this up?"

Harry nodded. "There's always an easier way."

The teacher gave him a small grin and nodded, holding the paper closer. "Mr. Potter, would you mind if I showed this to Mr. McWilliams?"

The ten-year-old blinked. "The head of the mathematics department? Why?"

"I think he'll be interested in your method. It is… intuitive." She smiled lightly again.

He returned it with a crooked grin. "Awesome!" As she walked away he tilted his chair back and waggled his eyebrows at the kid in the seat next to him.

The other boy, Harry's fellow scholarship classmate, snorted. "You're such a butt."

Harry's grin just widened.

* * *

><p>Coulson turned the radio slightly, frowning as he tapped his chin and tried to get it just right. He glanced from it to the bed before rearranging it slightly so that the man on the bed would be able to see it when he woke up. With a soft sigh he abandoned his quest. After a quick glance out the window to make sure that the real wall couldn't be seen, he stepped back.<p>

Captain America, also known as Steve Rogers, was fast asleep on the bed. His massive chest rose and fell in sleep, the white T-Shirt stretched tight over his enormous pectorals. Even in sleep he looked like perfection, his dark blonde hair nicely combed. Everything from the set of his jaw, the solid chin, and heavy brow screamed masculinity.

The agent narrowed his eyes when he saw the Super-Soldier shift slightly in his sleep. Clearly the Captain was nearing his time of awakening. Which was good considering how close they came to losing him.

Without the Stark funding, the funding that Tony Stark had inexplicably cut, their finding of Captain America had been a one-in-a-million chance. And even then they couldn't afford the equipment to safely thaw him, not on the budget cuts. In fact the only way they could was by Fury, Coulson, and a few others giving money out of pocket.

The only explanation they'd had for the Captain surviving was his enhancements. No one knew exactly how much Erskine had enhanced the man, hell for all they knew he was immortal.

The man stirred again and Coulson took a few steps backward, grabbing the door handle. He took one last glance at his hero as he opened the door.

Was the world, and more importantly the Captain himself, ready for what secrets the twenty-first century held?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ugh, FINALLY Steve comes in. The Obi scene ended a bit less smoothly than I wanted, but it works.**

**The story will really start post-IM and into IM2. Soon after comes in the WW, when Harry turns 11.**

**TONY IS NOT GAY. He is bi, but leans heavily towards males. Of course, after the whole fiasco with Howard, his trust is broken and he doesn't want to get into it with a guy.**

**If you like this, I HIGHLY encourage you to read the ficception written off of this one. It was done by Von, and it is called **_**Darkness of Birth Ficception**_**.**


End file.
